The Lion King Porno

Dec 4, 2012. Part 1

I woke up around 2 in the morning to the sounds of high heels clacking in the hallway, someone attempted to open our door with a wrong key. Then I couldn't go back to sleep. I watched Kysa, who had been sick all day, sleeping fitfully and my mind raced with conflicting thoughts. I was so happy she was present for meeting Wynray, but I was feeling guilty that maybe we'd made a mistake bringing her. 

While we were shot out of a cannon on Friday, I'd been mentally packing for over a year. Fredrik and I had spent countless hours debating the pros and cons of bringing Kysa with us. We felt confident, as world travelers, that we were prepared to take on this adventure as a family. We couldn't imagine not taking her. We had considered everything we thought….except for altitude sickness. 

I can't believe I'm actually going to share this, but it's part of this wild ride. and gives you an idea of our mental state. At around 3am Kysa sat up and asked for water. I gave her some which she chugged, and then threw up all over the bed. As Fredrik and I sprung into soothing our child, cleaning our bed and exchanging freaked out looks (cue the bow chicka bow wow music), it was like the Ethiopian porn industry started shooting a film in the next room. 

I can't recall a moment in my life that I felt like I was loosing it more than that particular moment.  Kysa was so sick and pitiful, we were so scared, and the soundtrack from next door just kept getting louder and louder and wouldn't stop, no matter how loudly our child cried, or we soothed her, or threw water bottles at the door.

Our solution: A 3am double feature of the Lion King and Sesame Street turned up as loud as it could go on our laptop. We snuggled, and hung onto each other through the sickness, fear and Disney soundtrack. And yes, it was during this madness, as Fredrik previously wrote, that Kysa told us she'd had a perfect day.

Somehow Kysa and Fredrik managed to sleep, but I was too freaked out by Kysa's sickness and Wynray's court date.  Around 6:30 I finally faded to sleep, the alarm went off at 7. 

Fredrik got up first and showered, and when he gently asked if I'd slept I started crying. I was so tired. And so we decided we were just going to put one foot in front of the other to get through the day. 

First step was to get Kysa to a doctor.  She was sleeping and we managed to get her dressed without really waking her. As we walked down the stairs carrying our precious snoozing bundle with wild blonde tangles sticking out in all directions, we were met by such sweet concern by all the Addis View staff. Everyone was concerned about Kysa. All the doormen, desk girls, waitresses kissing her hands, and cheeks and wishing us well as we headed to the doctor.

Our driver, Fesaka, was an angel. He led us through the gates of the hospital and got us registered. Now, before everyone at home freaks out about Kysa being so bad off we had to take her to a hospital, you should know in Ethiopia you go to the hospital to see the doctor. That's where they have their offices. Or at least where this children's specialist had hers. This hospital was no frills and not super modern, but I've had the pleasure of spending the night in a Turkish hospital and I'll take this place any day.

We didn't wait long and were taken into an exam room with IKEA fabric and curtains on the wall. It's amazing the things that bring you comfort at the strangest time. The doctor was an older woman with some tribal tattoos on her arms who spoke excellent English with a British accent. She was the epitome of a kick ass/super smart/internationally savvy grandmother. She was brisk, to the point, but caring. I loved her immediately. She examined Kysa and decided on a plan of treatment quickly.  Since I'd been giving Kysa pedialyte and it just wasn't staying down she suggested an injection. She then tsk'd me for being so scared. "Mama, your daughter is fine. This is nothing, stop being so anxious." 

So unfortunately, Kysa got an injection in her tiny rear end, and a little more trauma. sigh. more mama guilt. But within a few minutes she fell asleep as the doctor said she would. She slept through lunch, the drive to court, our court appointment and woke as we entered the gates to the care center. She then perked up and hasn't thrown up since., and I'm planning on actually sleeping tonight.

But one final note. We arrived back at the hotel just before lunch and went to the front desk to pay our driver. Fesaka had spent the morning driving, translating, and generally taking care of us. The receptionist waved us away. "Don't worry about it. Fesaka said he won't charge you for that." I wept, so blessed by his gesture, and reminded of why we chose to adopt from Ethiopia. Such beautiful people, inside and out.

This concludes Part 1 of Tuesday, more to come about court. 

Today was a Perfect Day

From Monday December 3, 2012:

The day we met Wynray we started with breakfast overlooking Addis, sunny skies and seated at a table next to a Spanish family who had just taken custody of their 2 Ethiopian boys a few days earlier.  Less than 30 minutes later, Kysa gets sick… the day just shifted.  Now just 10 minutes before we are scheduled to go see Wynray, we are fully focusing our attention on our little girl who trekked over 7,500 miles to be here.  Like us, she is trying to acclimate to life in Addis 8,000 ft. above sea level.  In 10 minutes she will set off to meet her baby brother.

Kysa is a trooper.  Brave.  Strong.  Our little hero.  She will fight through anything.  We get on the hotel bus and start the trek toward the IAN Care Center about 30 minutes away.  Traffic is chaos, smog and pollution build… we near.  Kysa gets sick again, and again.  She bounces back in between.  Our heads swim with random thoughts, nothing sticking.  We are desperately worried and wanting to take care of Kysa, and anxiously anticipating meeting our son .

Kysa has been charming the hotel staff since we arrived.  Besides the basic questions asked of her, "What is your name?" and "How old are you?"… she always adds, "I'm here to see my baby brother, he is in Ethiopia" as if not yet fully realizing she too is actually in Ethiopia. Maybe that still hasn't really hit any of us.. this is real.

We meet our son, Wynray… he is precious, handsome and full of smiles.  We promise to share much more on this later. Kysa is so proud too, looking at him, wanting to hold him, giving him "love pats" on his head.  She glances at him so affectionately it is amazing to witness.  And, he glances right back hardly able to take his eyes off his big sister.  Cute.  Cue proud parent moments.  Tissues?  Where are the tissues?

Unfortunately for Kysa, she gets sick again at the Care Center.  We go outside, she has had her moment with her brother today.  We play.  She is a trooper after all, so nothing a little play won't solve… or at least distract.  But we can see she is not fully herself.

Wynray falls asleep in Allison's arms and she places him in his crib, our precious meeting and moment has come to an end this day.  We focus again on Kysa and getting her well… back to the hotel for quiet time.  Good sleep, a movie or two, she is doing better.  

By dinner time we brave leaving the room with her to head downstairs for some food and fresh (fresh? ok, close but not really) air.  She plays and musters her strength once again.  She is playful and funny, our little girl.  But it doesn't last.  Dinner becomes room service, but we are all ok with that.  So we gather our things and head up to eat our cheese sandwich with ketchup, french fries and the 'Fasting Firfir' which is basically a marinated, spiced injera mix eaten with more injera.  Edible, not bad.. not great.  Better perhaps than the pasta with "ice cream sauce", or maybe I'll try that tomorrow.

Here's the part I LOVE.  We wake up in the middle of the night after this long, rough, precious, hard, amazing, challenging, beautiful, draining, splendid day.  We are all 3 awake.  Addis is black.  Our room lit by the screen of our laptop, 'The Lion King playing.  Allison asks Kysa, "what did you think about today?"

Kysa responds, "today was a perfect day".  

Kysa, you are our little hero.  You are going to be a great Big Sister!

PS- Don't worry, Kysa is doing great now!!!

/ fredrik

Shot Out of a Cannon or How to Get to Ethiopia in 36 hours

On Friday morning (November 30) at 10:55 am, I had a breakdown telling my husband how disappointed I was that we hadn't gotten a court date yet. I was really throwing down a pretty fantastic pity party when I looked at the clock to notice I needed to shower in time to go get Kysa. I started to walk away and Fredrik checked his phone and there was a voicemail from our coordinator...apparently left during my pity party.

We ran into the kitchen, called her back.
Cat: You've got a court date...
Allison- falls to knees laughing, and still sniffling from the pity party
Fredrik: (Cautiously) When?
Cat: Are you ready for this....it's Dec 4.
A-still on floor laughing harder
F: That's NEXT week
C: I know, I laughed when I read it. It's okay, we can reschedule.
A: We can do it! We can get there, we can do it!

...and then we were off. First to pick up Kysa at her school and to tell them we couldn't bring the cheese tray to the Christmas Party or be responsible for the classroom laundry over the weekend. On the way, I cancelled our weekly vegetable box and cancelled my chiropractor appointment. Simultaneously, I was on Facebook with our adoption agency support group looking for a travel agent who could overnight us to Ethiopia.

On the way home we stopped at Whole Foods and just spun around in place until we realized we needed to make a game plan and lists. So we picked up deodorant and a ridiculous amount of dog and cat food...

Fredrik took over booking the flights and hotel, and he made a last minute appointment on a Friday evening for vaccinations at 6:00 pm

...I started making The Packing List. I also called our neighbors across the street and asked for help watching Kysa and to have someone go with me to Target because despite the list, I was FRAZZLED and not sure what I'd bring home...

Meanwhile, we got an email from our coordinator in Colorado telling us we needed two documents notarized. Fredrik had ALREADY been to the bank and was at REI for water purifiers or travel pants or something when I saw the part about needing a Notary. So I called Fredrik and told him to come home immediately.

He sent a text back to say he'd confirmed our flights and we were flying out THE NEXT DAY AT 7AM. At this point we would need to leave our home in 12 hours.

...and crap! It was 4:00, banks close at 5. Friday traffic. Fredrik rushed home and we flew to the bank by about 4:30 while Carter, angel from across the street stayed with Kysa.

Glenda, my neighbor and friend (and in this case angel and mother of Carter), picked me up at the bank and we drove to Target. I remember being really shaky and not in my body. We arrived at Target a little before 5. I FILLED a cart with everything from diapers, medicine, formula and bandaids both for my family and the care center. I remember having a mini-breakdown because we'd had such short notice and I knew so many people, including Kysa's preschool, who wanted to contribute to donations to the care center. I had envisioned putting all our belongings in one bag and filling the rest of the suitcases (we would have been allowed 6) with donations. I just couldn't show up empty handed, but Glenda reminded me of the second trip...

At 5:30 we filled Glenda's car and she drove me to the travel doctor where I met Fredrik and Kysa for a 6:00 appointment that took 2hours and 15 minutes, and a grand total of 17 vaccinations. Kysa 4, Fredrik  5, and me a whopping 8 shots.

Not only was this an incredibly miserable experience, but it blew A LOT of our precious time.  I still needed to buy more groceries and some homeopathic remedies from Whole Foods. So we rolled into Whole Foods at 8:30.

By 9:00 we were eating dinner at our neighbors, yep those same angels from above. Not only did provide us dinner, they agree to take care of our dog and cat, return library books, pick up our car at the airport, and hold down our fort in general.

At 9:15 we knocked on another neighbor's door to ask if they'd provide backup for dog sitting.

By 9:30 Fredrik was working on getting us international travelers insurance and I was sorting and packing.

Around 10:00 Fredrik headed back out to go to CVS to pick up some prescriptions and to make a photobook to give to Baby W's birthdad. We wanted him to have photos of  Baby W and to see some pictures of what our family life looks like.

At 10:30 I noticed a text from our neighbors who had Kysa at their house, asking if I had any Tylenol because Kysa's legs were aching from the shots. I retrieved Kysa, who couldn't walk because her legs hurt so badly, gave her tylenol and put her in our bed trying not to allow myself to get comfortable. I hadn't slept well in the past week, and I was starting to get very sleeeeepy.

By midnight Fredrik was home and packing, sorting, organizing continued until around 2:45. We forced ourselves to go to bed. Fredrik fell asleep immediately I starred at the ceiling and sent myself reminder texts until about 3:30.

Alarm went off at 4. Child woken from the dead at 4:30. Elf on the Shelf spotted by child at 4:55 and placed in my suitcase at 4:57.

Off to the airport by 5. Boarded flight at 6:45

The flights were fairly uneventful. Kysa was amazing. I think I dozed a little. We arrived in Toronto with just enough time to make our connecting flight and we arrived in Addis Ababa at 7:45 am local time.

Stepping off the plane was exactly how I imagined, from the chaos to the smells. We arrived shell shocked, exhausted and giddy we had pulled it off, not to mention the promise of meeting our son soon. very soon.

After we waited an excruciatingly long time for a visa, well over an hour, we rushed to baggage claim worried about our luggage just circling the carousel. We discovered MY bag had not arrived (I'm not allowing myself to think it's just missing or stolen quite yet). While waiting for my bag, the power went off. Surreal. Wow, I guess we've really arrived.

By the time we got to the hotel, I was so exhausted I couldn't really feel the edges of my body from the inside anymore...everything felt fuzzy. So we did what everyone does in Ethiopia, we went down to the hotel cafe, ordered a macchiato and then found a driver who would take us shopping for some clothes.

Normally, I would have just toughed it out for a couple days until we got news about my bag. But the next flight out from Toronto is on Tuesday and the flight won't arrive until Wed morning...and I needed presentable clothes for court on Tuesday.

Kysa slept in our arms (car seats, what car seats?) during the fiasco as we drove around the city, goats and cows crossing the roads, horns honking, lanes improvised, air pollution thick, people walking everywhere...

I discovered I am a giantess by Ethiopian standards, and couldn't find a shirt to fit. The one skirt I found, the 11 year old looking boy running the store, yanked up the price for the desperate looking white lady. So I walked away in my dirty clothes...

We came back to the hotel, took a short nap and climbed to the rooftop hotel restaurant for dinner. Kysa   ate a few french fries and played with the wait staff while we ate and then FINALLY we went back to our room and got ready for bed.

Kysa and Fredrik miraculously slept the entire night, I was awake at 3 mind racing about meeting Baby W in just a few short hours.

...More on that incredible day coming soon.`

   

I haven't been sleeping well.  

Three baby boys have been keeping me awake.  The first, my own son in a care center in Addis Ababa, the second, a dear friend's baby boy who was recently in an induced coma very far away, the third, a tiny baby boy named Zemene (we are his FIG, family in the gap) stuck for political reasons in an orphanage in Awassa, Ethiopia. 

Please give us a court date....
Please let him live...
Please change policy, please give him a family...

If you could open my heart, and read my desires the way you chop a tree and tell it's age by counting the rings, these would be the mantras/prayers/thoughts/pleas encrypted deeply in the chambers. 

We decorated our home early for Christmas this year because we're hopeful we'll be in Ethiopia over the holidays, and we want Kysa to experience Christmas.  The twinkle lights, the candles, the box of nostalgic decorations and the busy-ness of it all served as a respite.  

I framed a photo of Zemene on my desk, and I placed a little African angel on Baby W's photo on our mantle. St Lucia, the Swedish saint who wears candles in her hair bringing light to the darkest night of winter, sits next to Baby W's photo.  These small symbolic gestures seem so anemic when my arms ache for my son. Yet, the embodied images of saints and angels and tiny lights in our home, casting their glow against the darkness, gives me hope.

I am acutely aware of the surreal state my family is in right now. A beautiful and horrific limbo of seeing and knowing our son's face but not being able to hold him or know him. The ache in my heart is palpable, but what a privilege to feel and experience such love and pain. It is a beautiful and horrific process feeling our hearts being broken wide open, only to be repaired with more space, more capacity, more love and light. 


There is something poetically beautiful and equally horrid about being with your little child at 3 in the morning in a hospital room, listening to his little breath, and watching numbers shift on a monitor. 

....from darkness to light. 

After tossing and turning last night, when I couldn't stand another minute of my loud pleading thoughts, I finally flipped open my laptop and checked my email at 4am.  Against the darkness of my bedroom, with my family sleeping soundly next to me, the glow of my laptop offered up a photo of my friend's son sitting up in his hospital bed, with a big grin and the sock monkey I gave him last year at the beach. 

...from darkness to light. 

There was so much relief in seeing that precious boy's face, and the sweet reward was sleep. 

So much gratitude, so much relief. 
And today I'll celebrate that light.

But, Zemene is still stuck in an orphanage, unable to be matched to a forever family.
And I really miss my son.  

...the light is coming. even this late it happens.

The Coming of Light By Mark Strand
Even this late it happens: the coming of love, the coming of light. You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves, stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows, sending up warm bouquets of air. Even this late the bones of the body shine and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.

Thankfully unexpected...

After the last few emotionally draining days, it's time for a bit of hope and celebration. Our family is looking forward to a week of giving thanks. We have so much to be thankful for.

We're also obsessively checking our email for a court date...

The night we received Baby W's referral we decided to celebrate, and we went to the Abyssinia Restaurant here in Raleigh for dinner. It's a traditional Ethiopian restaurant and we were excited to eat food we love and celebrate the end of our long wait for a referral. Because we had decided to keep the referral from friends and family until we had officially accepted Baby W's referral, I was dying to show his picture to someone! I was so in love with his little face already, so I showed his photo to our Ethiopian waitress...

her surprised response: "He's from Ethiopia?" (strange look)
me: Yes, Gambella (with proud, puffed up mama pride)
waitress: I see. Beautiful boy, but he doesn't look Ethiopian. (strange look)

I mention this only to give you an idea of our interesting adoption situation.  We've spent the last two years celebrating/learning/absorbing all things Ethiopian and then we find out we're matched with a beautiful baby boy who belongs to an ethnic group persecuted by many Ethiopians. Um, hello mind flip.

Baby W, based on his name and where he is from, is believed to be from the Anuak tribe. We look forward to confirming this when we meet his birth father. The Anuak are river people whose villages lie along the banks of southeastern South Sudan and western Ethiopia, in the Gambela region. The tribesmen are primarily farmers and herdsmen. When you research Anuak history, basically all you'll find are recent reports of genocide and persecution from the other ethnicities in Ethiopia and the Ethiopian government. Genocide Watch placed the Anuak tribe on the emergency list of ongoing genocides in the world.  There are only 300,000 to 350,000 Anuak in the world, making the Anuak an endangered people. Sadly, the Anuak people are also looked down on by other Ethiopians because of the dark color of their skin.

I wish I could post a picture of Baby W's face and skin...he's gorgeous. I mean, he's stunning. Seriously.

Are you hearing the conflict rattle around in my head? That grinding sound is the recalibrating of two years of waiting for an Ethiopian baby and finding out we're going to be the parents of a child whose family and tribe has RECENTLY been persecuted by Ethiopians. 

I had imagined raising my son listening to Ethiopian music in the kitchen while we cook dinner from any of the Marcus Samuelsson cookbooks blending our Swedish/American/Ethiopian heritage, celebrating Ethiopian holidays with our Ethiopian adoption community, I plan on buying him Ethiopian soccer jerseys for every stage of his young life, birthday cakes with green, yellow and red frosting with tiny Ethiopian flags, baby pictures in traditional Ethiopian garb, the space over our mantle is reserved for a piece of Ethiopian art I plan on buying on our upcoming travels...AND we plan on frequenting that local Ethiopian restaurant, the one where the Ethiopian waitress said he didn't look ETHIOPIAN!! 

But he IS Ethiopian, damn it. And quite honestly, we're still going to do these things, but they are certainly going to feel strangely inauthentic until we can figure out a way to embody them respectfully for Baby W and his birth family and tribe. And while I'm making this personal about my family and Baby W, let's also not loose sight of digesting the horrific facts of genocide, and why haven't we heard about it, and why aren't we doing something to stop it. Whether or not to decorate my home with Ethiopian art is not the big question here, though it is the way I'm shamefully processing it.

Suddenly our adoption doesn't feel so Ethiopian anymore. I feel like we've stepped even further off the beaten trail than we anticipated. But please don't get me wrong, this is not a bad thing at all.  Baby W is truly a rare treasure who we plan to celebrate every day. We hold the responsibility of understanding, cherishing and preserving his culture to be a great one, even greater than before. And while our job just got more difficult, it excites and ignites us. It also makes me chuckle at the reminder that Fredrik and I always seem to find ourselves as fringe dwellers, often by our own choosing, but certainly a consistent place for both of us since we were kids. Honestly, we'd have it no other way.  Fredrik and I both grew up feeling like outsiders, but over the years we found each other and have built a loving community of radical truth seekers, community organizers, global entrepreneurs, adventurers, and artists who we consider chosen family and who will embrace Baby W. 

Currently, we anticipate being able to meet Baby W's birth father when we travel to Addis Ababa in (HOPEFULLY!!) a few weeks. We have seriously looked into traveling to Gambella because we really want to see where Baby W is from and try to get a better understanding of his tribe.  Unfortunately, the local Ethiopian staff in Addis don't recommend travel to that region. I'm super disappointed about that, but respect the opinions of the IAN local staff.  But if their opinion should change we'll be heading to Gambella.

So Baby W...are you ready for us? You are not only going to be celebrated for the handsome and rare gem you are as an Anuak, but we're going to celebrate Ethiopia, the country where you were born, and we're going to celebrate Sweden where your dad was born, and where you will have family and dual Swedish and American citizenship, AND somehow we'll find a way to wave your American flag too. We speak English and Swedish in this house and sing in sanskrit. We celebrate many religions, but One Love. We love animals, but don't eat them. We dance in the kitchen, act out stories in bed, and write silly songs about arugula on long car trips. We are a family who celebrates uniqueness and flying your freak flag high (not that you are a freak, son...just speaking for the rest of us). If the four of us need to have our own Anuak/Ethiopian/Swedish/American pride parade through our neighborhood we'll do just that!! If ever there was a community ready to embrace you and us in all our uniqueness and complexity, it's the one we're cultivating here in the purple house on Elm St, and our community around the world at large.  

I look forward to this challenge of digging deeply to help Baby W honor, love, preserve and understand his heritage. Thanks Universe. You know I usually take the path less traveled, and that has made all the difference. 

One step closer

Baby W's father showed up for court this morning and relinquished him.

We're one step closer, but I feel like I've been hit by a Mack Truck. 

It really looks like that little boy with the mega-wat smile will be our son. For that news I'm thankful, but in the meantime my heart is breaking for his birth family.

This is so hard, so unbelievably hard.

Shanti, Shanti, Shanti-hi
May there be peace, peace, and perfect peace

If it be your will...

Today Baby W's birth father travels to Addis Ababa from his home in Gambela. He is scheduled to attend court on Monday and give up rights to his son.

I really know nothing about Baby W's birth father other than his name, where he is from, and the fact his beautiful boy with a brilliant mega-wat smile may soon be our son.  I can't begin to describe what it feels like to have such a connection to a person you've never met.

I know what Baby W's name means, I know the beautiful jewelry he wears, and I know without a doubt how much he is loved by his birth family.  I know if he is relinquished, it is an act of selfless love  beyond what my heart can understand.

I doubt Baby W's father has ever been on an airplane, or stayed in a hotel, or even been to a large city. I imagine him traveling alone, completely overwhelmed, walking the streets of Addis Ababa with the burden of the world on his shoulders.

I don't really have words to describe my thoughts, they are beyond complicated. My heart is in my throat and my prayer is not what I would have expected when we began this process over two years ago.

If it be your will. If it be your will. If it be your will...

I simply cannot pray for Baby W's father to give him up, but I will pray for his father's safety and comfort, and for his heart to find peace with whatever decision he makes. I pray if he does choose to relinquish Baby W that he can sense our presence in Baby W's life and the great love we have for both of them.

this is what will be playing on repeat this weekend:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1MDlMdu2gjw

*right before publishing this post, we learned Baby W's birth father missed his flight. There is another flight out on Sunday.  Baby W's court appointment is Monday morning in Addis Ababa which will be sometime in the middle of the night for us.  Before you go to sleep on Sunday night, or if you're awake in the wee hours Monday morning, perhaps you can join us in sending Baby W's birth father peace, love and light.

If it be your will...